


Birds

by repossessme



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Band Fic, Bromance to Romance, Drunkenness, First Time, M/M, RPF, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 19:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1317400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/repossessme/pseuds/repossessme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lennon is drunk, and his feelings for Paul erupt unexpectedly. Written January 28th, 2004 for the Beatlesslash LJ community.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birds

Paul could clearly remember the first time that John had laid hands on him. The first time John had violently invaded his space, and wrung his arms around his middle so tightly that he could scarcely get a breath. John's chest and stomach pressed hard against his back, unrelenting. At first, he had thought that John had just been mucking about, a little roughing around between mates who've had a pint too much to drink.

Yet, the sheer length of the embrace... it lasted far too long for Paul, who had already braced himself. He clung to the hope that John would all of the sudden pitch him to the floor and begin laughing. That never happened. When he felt the soft warm flesh of John's lips nuzzled gently against his neck, he knew this was something else entirely. It scared him, initially. Scared him to think of what John's intentions were, what they possibly could be. This... contact, was so foreign to him. Not really the physical touching itself, but more of the feelings that went along with it. The strangeness of it all was hard to stand.

Paul inched away from John's grip, loosened the arms that held him captive, and turned about. His face mere inches from the other man's, he examined him closely.

"Goddammit, Lennon. You're pissed."

"Ha, Paulie, of course I am," John slurred as a clumsy smile spread across his lips. "Next time we're out, you've gotta remind me not to order so much lager."

Paul instinctively rolled his eyes. "John, we stayed in tonight. You can't even remember the events from one hour ago. But yet you hang all over me like some kind of, of..."

"Don't say it, Paulie," John stumbled toward the couch in the center of Paul's apartment, and sat down amid the worn brown upholstery and visible springs. John flicked at one of the springs, "You never were much of a housemaid, were you now son?" he laughed drunkenly, his eyes darting, unfocused, around the room.

"'Course not, what kind of single bloke keeps his place neat anyway?" Paul replied. His voice was evidence to his relief at the change of topic... he hadn't really wanted to venture any further down that route, even if he had trouble stopping himself from doing so.

"No wonder there's never any birds coming 'round."

"Ah, shut up. What do you know? An old deserter like yourself," Paul sat down next to John on the couch, adjusting his trouser legs as he did so.

"What?"

"You heard me, you're a deserter. Estranged, shirking your familial duties and all that rot."

John's mouth snapped shut, not even an angry remark provoked by the alcohol in his system could be voiced. He looked as though someone had landed a blow on him, utterly shocked.

"Come on, Lennon," Paul prodded his shoulder, "You don't even want to have a go at me? Let it out boyo, insult me."

John shook his head, a few strands of his dark brown hair falling over his eyes. "Don't get going on that tangent, Paul. I don't need you right now telling me what I should 'let out.' You're not a goddamned shrink, and you're too dense to realize that I've already tried to express myself to you. The very action of which went totally unrecognized by you..."

"That's not true," Paul started, "I recognized it, all right. Then I ignored it, because you're fucking smashed."

"Paul, don't think I can't control myself, even in this... state," he smoothed out his slightly greasy hair, pushing the stray bits back into place. "I'm not incapacitated, you know," he said softly.

"I just thought... well, I didn't want you to regret anything," he looked John earnestly in the eyes.

"You know I hate it when you pity me, Paul," he said condescendingly in his frustration, tearing his gaze away.

"I'm not--"

"Yes, you are. You're worried I don't have any thought or, or any meaning behind my actions. You're sorry for me because not only are you not reciprocating, you think I'm actually making a mistake," he looked up once more, "How presumptuous, Paul. How... you," John sneered, his upper lip curled a bit and relaxed.

"Fine," Paul said, dejected, "Fine. Believe that if you must," he turned away from the other man and moved to get up from the couch.

"It's true, you know."

"Lennon, you know damn well that every little piece of rubbish that flies out of your mouth is truth to you. And generally, you alone."

The cold of Paul's words ate straight through what little front John could handle putting up, and anger seemed to finally consume him. "Fuck it, Paul, just--" But he stopped. It wasn't as though he was holding back from saying something nasty, it was as if his brain had honestly lost track of that train of thought, and his eyes glazed over for a moment.

Paul sat back down, confused. He full on expected a verbal thrashing, but it seemed that would no longer be the case. He observed as a look of - dare Paul think it? - innocence crossed John's face; the deeply-etched lines of frustration were erased.

John smiled dumbly as if some kind of revelation had made itself clear to him, and at the same time squelched all of the anger generated by the exchange of words.

The embers of spite still smoldered within Paul, yet they were growing cooler by the second. He wasn't sure of what to say anymore, or what to do.

"Paul, Paul," John clasped Paul's hands in his, much to his bemusement, "Listen to us. Like a lot of totty schoolgirls, we are," he raised an eyebrow for emphasis.

"God, John, you know," Paul said as he choked back the lump that was forming in the back of his throat, "You know I agree with you on that, lad," he leaned over and unabashedly pressed his forehead against John's. It was somehow comforting to Paul to feel this physical contact of his own volition, to not have it forced upon him unexpectedly. He thought about the constant bickering that occurred between them, and how it masked the close friendship that they shared.

How could they have remained mates, after all, if they hadn't kept the policy of always making up after a row? It was usually as easy as giving a playful slug to the other, or even some words of apology. This time... it was nonverbal. Yes, they were close.

And John... well, he seemed to have another idea entirely. It amused Paul that John could possibly fancy the idea of a romance between the two of them. After the initial shock of the suggestion, he realized he didn't take offense to the notion... but it was just so silly to him.

It would, however, explain all of the tension that manifested whenever they were around one another... No, Paul wouldn't allow himself to dwell on that. It was really too much to deal with right now, too much to understand. 

He would soon find out just how fervent John's fancy was.

Paul felt his hands being dropped from John's warm grasp. He pulled his face away, about to speak, to say something about what he'd been thinking for the past few minutes. 

John didn't allow time for that. He moved his hand up to Paul's smooth, pale face and held it in his calloused hands. His thumb stroked the puffed skin under Paul's left eye softly, sweetly. "You haven't been sleeping well, 'ave you Paul?"

This time, Paul didn't pull away from John. He nodded to answer John's question, and closed his eyes. He allowed the touching to continue, and he found it easier than he had thought it would be, to admit to himself that the other man's touch actually did feel good. Maybe... if he just let Lennon handle the bulk of this thing, it would be something he was able to deal with. If he could just get the rational side of his personality to win out over the controlling side, he could perhaps even grow to... need this type of interaction in his life.

After all, Paul laughed as he thought about it, God knew there weren't any birds coming 'round these days.


End file.
